


Come Home

by some_girl_from_Canada



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Feelings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-31 05:43:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21086969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/some_girl_from_Canada/pseuds/some_girl_from_Canada
Summary: It’s a Thursday when Dean sees him again.He’s caught off guard, he’s overwhelmed, and he wants so badly it leaves an ache in his chest.





	Come Home

**Author's Note:**

> I was working on my other fic and this wouldn’t leave my brain.

It’s a Thursday when Dean sees him again. 

It catches him off guard, and he nearly chokes on a handful of peanuts when he catches the familiar unruly mop of dark hair across the bar. 

He hasn’t noticed yet, so Dean takes the opportunity to drink him in like a man dying of thirst. The way the light catches his green eyes when he laughs at something the man next to him said. The way he drags his fingers through the condensation collected on his beer. The way he frowns slightly when no one is looking. 

Dean knows those fingers, and has chased away frowns from those lips before. He aches when he hears that laugh again. Low, rich, and everything Dean could ever want. 

The night goes on and Dean watches. He’s like a man possessed. He can’t tear his eyes away, but his body won’t move closer the way he dearly wants to. He slinks in the shadows where he’s unlikely to be interrupted. Using skills picked up over years of hunting to keep his mark in his sight while remaining anonymous. 

His breath hitches when that sinful tongue swipes at his lower lip, catching droplets of beer and Dean wants so hard he’s dizzy for a moment. He watches him push hair from his face and he longs to run his fingers through the soft curls. 

The bar starts to thin out, and before he can stop himself he’s following him out the door. The air is chilly, but it does little to snap the trance he’s found himself in. They’re alone in the parking lot, and Dean takes a deep breath as if he could take in his scent if he breathes in deep enough. He watches him move, all grace and confidence. 

There’s a hole in Dean’s chest and he aches with such dizzying want. 

He’s firmly in his own mind when it happens. He’s suddenly in front of him, green eyes blazing and Dean can’t breathe. 

Then he’s touching him. 

A swift, hard punch right in the nose. Not exactly the kind of touch he’d been hoping for. 

“Sonofabitch!” Dean crouches and cradles his nose, blood pouring and he has the sick feeling it’s broken. 

“You. Utter. Prick.” Are the first words Dean hears from him in months. He knows he’s angry but he doesn’t care right now. His voice is smooth like chocolate and Dean wants to get lost in it. 

He doesn’t speak but a noise rises in the back of his throat, a cross between a gurgle and a whine. 

“You disappeared. Where did you go?” He demands. 

“Harry.” Dean says his name like a prayer. How can he possibly answer that question? _‘Sorry I didn’t call I’ve been in Hell the last few months. Wouldn’t recommend visiting, has terrible service.’_ So instead he stares into eyes that kept him from losing his mind through endless torture. He pleads silently for him to stay, to listen, to - he doesn’t know, to just be. 

Harry stares back, an intense look that Dean swears could see right through him. He feels a light pressure on his mind for a brief moment but disregards it in favour of taking in everything that is Harry. The curve of his jaw, the stubble on his chin, the light tan on his smooth skin, he breathes in again and this time he can smell him and it’s everything he’s been missing. Pine, polish, leather, and something uniquely Harry. 

Harry makes a broken sound and he’s leaning close. “Oh Dean.” He’s touching him again, this time it’s much gentler. There’s an understanding look in his eyes that’s only a little heartbroken. Hands on his jaw, pulling him down to rest Dean’s forehead against his. He could swear the pain in his nose vanished at his touch. 

Dean’s eyes slid closed and he just takes in the moment before he whispers, “I missed you.” His voice cracks but he feels no shame. It may have been a few months for Harry but it was 40 god damn years for him. “So _much_.” He curls his fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck the way he’s wanted to all night. 

The ache is back. He wants to pull him close, closer and never let go. Wants to bury himself in everything thats Harry. Instead he leans closer and suppresses a sob. 

Harry steps closer still, angling his face and brushes his lips against Dean’s in a chaste kiss. 

It’s more than he can take. He can’t hold back the sob that escapes him and he pulls Harry firmly into his arms. “I missed you.” He repeats, eyes still closed. He feels broken, like those are the only words he knows. He says it again, he has no idea how many times. It’s become his mantra. Every time he says it, it eases the ache ever so slightly. 

He feels a kind of peace he hasn’t known in a lifetime with Harry in his arms. It feels right. This is how it’s meant to be. They stand there for long minutes but it’ll never be enough. 

Harry steps out from his arms and Dean feels the crushing emptiness again. He runs a thumb across Dean’s cheekbone and Dean leans into the touch. 

“Come home?” Harry’s voice is soft, and though it’s a question there’s no question about Dean’s answer. 

He leans in and captures lips. “Yes.” He breathes. He feels more than hears Harry’s breath hitch before he responds to the kiss. At first it’s simply wonderful pressure. Then it’s insistent, demanding. Dean needs this more than he needs air. 

It’s Friday when Dean wakes up, truly home for the first time in longer than he cares to think about. 

He pulls the warm body next to him closer, resting his chin on the top of Harry’s head. Harry shifts in his sleep, nuzzling closer and Dean’s heart constricts. He presses his lips to messy hair and feels whole for the first time since waking up in that coffin. He feels a smile tug at his lips and contentment settle deep in his bones. 


End file.
